


Curiosity (Almost) Killed the Quill

by MissGallows



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-25
Updated: 2014-09-25
Packaged: 2018-02-18 18:35:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2358074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissGallows/pseuds/MissGallows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort-of new meeting almost ends up killing Peter Quill, but through sheer curiosity and Terran wiles, he somehow manages to turn it around in his favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Curiosity (Almost) Killed the Quill

**Author's Note:**

> So! I haven't been writing for a very long time, and after writing a little something for a friend, I decided to write something for myself. Forgive me, for I know it is awkward as hell and any honest guidance I can get is welcome!  
> Hurrah for rare pairs/crack pairs not a lot of people write for inspiring me to wander out into this mess.

It had been a few years now since the incident involving Ronan the Accuser and the Infinity Stone that nearly ended what had barely had the chance to begin. Since that time, the team- known now as the Guardians of the Galaxy- had been given the chance to learn from and about one another and grow. They knew one another's strengths and weaknesses and made more of a point to watch each other's backs, quite the improvement from when they first began their journey together.

So it was a surprise to them all when on their so called relaxing side trip to Knowhere that they would run into a face they all thought to be in their past. Or more accurately, their somewhat fearless leader Peter Quill would crash nearly headfirst into that ghost from the past and barely get a chance to work out a, 

"Hey man, sorry..."

Before ultimately having a hand to his throat and finding himself lifted a few inches off the ground. Immediately the other Guardians fell into attack mode, Peter gripping the wrist of the person who held him aloft.

"Ronan..." he heard Gamora hiss from somewhere to his left.

"I was pretty sure we'd obliterated you, y'know, when the Infinity Stone decided to turn you into space dust?" Rocket mused, the cock of his weapon unmistakable even with blood pounding in Peter's ears.

"I am Groot." Came the deep timbre of the large tree creature, a hum of agreement echoing amongst the rest of the Guardians.

Peter took a moment to attempt to pull himself up a little by bracing his free hand on Ronan's forearm to receive some of the pressure on his throat to allow him to speak.

"I think we're all equally surprised here... But can we just talk about this like normal people Instead of..." he paused, punctuated by a cough brought on by Ronan tightening his grip on his throat, "Pain." Peter barely managed to grind out.

Ronan's eyes narrowed, having ignored all of the other commentary from the group until Peter himself spoke.

"What do you know of pain?" He demanded, moving to slam Peter's back into the nearest wall, drawing a half-gasp from the Terran man before continuing, "You think this is pain?!"

It clicked rather quickly to Peter that Ronan had gone past the point of any regard for his life the way he focused all of his anger on Peter and took not a second thought to the rest of the armed team behind him. He knew they were all bound to jump on Ronan with this latest assault to him, letting go of his forearm to hold his hand out and signal to let them know to leave them alone, to let him handle it. 

Peter noticed the aggravated glances- especially from Gamora and Drax, who both had perfectly legitimate reasons for wanting Ronan dead- and mentally noted to find a way to make it up to them at some point. Which would be hard… but doable somehow. He thinks.

“If you’re… So bent on ex...plaining pain… Why don’t you… Share?” Peter choked out, noting his own grip loosening on the Kree man’s wrist, his sight finally taking the turn toward tunnel vision.

“I have known more pain than any of you will ever understand. And all of it falls on you. If it wasn’t for you stealing the Infinity Stone from me… If it wasn’t for you I would have completed my mission and torn Thanos from this plane..!”

Peter let his hand fall to rest on Ronan’s forearm again as his eyes drooped closed. He knew the Guardians would probably ignore his wishes once he’d completely blacked out, but far be it if he wasn’t determined to get out of this himself. 

With the last little bit of breath he had stored in his lungs he hummed a few bars of the song that had brought Ronan his defeat the first time, hoping for a less angry outcome this time. It was pathetic to his own ears, to say the least… But hey, it at least vaguely resembled the song.

And it seemed to work a little as Ronan’s grip loosened until the point he could feel the ground beneath his feet. His knees immediately gave out as Ronan let go of him, almost like the contact was something painful. Peter made a halfhearted note to give Ronan long-suffering looks of sadness to get back at him later. 

By the time he had finished hacking out a lung in order to get the air back into his chest, he glanced up to see Gamora kneeling in front of him, an irritated expression on her face.

“Are you a krutacking moron?!” She snapped, tilting Peter’s head back to get a better look at his throat.

“So I hate my life a little more than the average Terran. Must be that Spartoi blood or something.” He said nonchalantly, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He didn’t think there would ever be a point when he wouldn’t be grateful for the ability to breathe.

Deep down he was amazed Ronan didn’t just snap his neck, like all of them probably expected him to. And to be completely honest, Peter hadn’t expected the whole song thing to work. Speaking of Ronan…

“Where’d big, mean, and blue go?”

“Do you have to ask?” Came Rocket’s voice as he stood beside Gamora, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding behind him.

Peter tilted his head to look around the half-cybernetic raccoon to see Ronan slung over Drax’s shoulder. Not surprising in the least. He should have known, really. In the long run he supposed it didn’t matter because this would mean he would get a chance to talk to the Kree warrior on his own terms, without a hand around his throat… He had a lot of questions he wanted to ask him.

Like… How in the hell was he even alive?

It took hours after getting back to the Milano for Ronan to wake up. Something was off about that, Peter thought. He bounced back so quickly when they fought the first time... But, he supposed, that could have had something to do with the Infinity Stone he'd had In his possession at the time. He knew the Kree people valued strength and resilience... especially if they chose a dude like Ronan to carry a title like 'the Accuser'. The guy is nuts, all hell bent on destroying an entire planet. Peter vaguely remembered him mentioning something about his home and his people being attacked or something amidst all of the babble of wanting to watch the planet burn... Something to that effect. It'd been a few years, so sue him.

The team was bound and determined to make sure Peter was bored to death at this point. Something about how he just had a rather traumatic experience and that he should just stay in bed and not worry about anything. That had been all fine and good for the hour or so his cassette lasted, and then he was itching to get up and do something.

Peter sat up in bed and pushed his headphones down around his neck and listened for the sounds of the other Guardians on the ship. He assumed Gamora would be at at the controls of the ship, he thought he heard her and Rocket laying that plan out while they thought he was sleeping. Drax may or may not be pounding the hell out of Ronan at this point, and he wouldn't blame him. The dude did kill his wife and daughter and even though it was satisfying to watch him die the first time, nothing like openly having the ability to take advantage of having him captured. Rocket and Groot were the ones Peter wondered about. They could either be sleeping, like they should be if they had next rotation for piloting his baby, or they could be skulking outside the door.

Peter finally decided he didn't care and rolled out of bed, holding his walkman close so not to drop it as he moved. Walking toward the door of his room, he passed a mirror and paused, a grimace dancing across his features as he noticed the darkening outline of Ronan's hand around his throat. The dude had huge hands, he observed. Tilting his head to the side he realized he could see the outline of every one of his fingers and thumb as clear as day, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Maybe going to have a chat with Ronan wasn't the best idea right now, he mused.

Ah, what the hell?

Peter moved from the mirror and poked his head out of his bedroom door, doing a little sweep of the corridor before stepping out into the hallway. When he didn't hear Rocket screaming to get back into his room or he'd get his head blasted off, Peter figured he was safe. 

Without a second thought he made his way through the ship, ducking down the stairwell as he noticed Drax's back a little further down the hallway and headed down into the nifty little prisoner hold the Nova Corps were kind enough to have installed when they rebuilt the Milano after the battle on Xandar… They hadn’t had a chance to use it yet, and all of them found it quite ironic- yet oddly suiting- that Ronan was its first inhabitant.

The Kree warrior was sitting on the cot in the cell, with his back facing the hold door. He barely glanced over his shoulder as Peter entered, a noticeable roll of his eyes as he looked back to the wall in front of him.

“What do you want, Terran?” He questioned, his tone indifferent as if he really didn’t care what the answer might have been.

Peter contemplated just leaving for a moment, obviously this hadn’t been his brightest idea of the day. Besides holding off the Guardians from attacking the guy to begin with after he’d grabbed him by the throat.

“I just wanted to talk.” Peter said honestly. After all, he was here… Why not keep going with it?

He heard a huff of what almost sounded like laughter come from Ronan, although in reality it had probably been more along the lines of a snort of contempt. He had no idea, the dude wasn’t really good with emotions and Peter hated that. Stoicism killed him, and it seemed like Ronan didn’t have a funny bone in his body.

“Tell me, Terran… What exactly did you think that the two of us have to talk about?” He drawled.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight from his left foot to his right before replying, “You said some rather confusing things, and I just wanted a little bit of clarification. LIke… The whole not knowing the true meaning of pain and whatnot… And how even are you alive right now? Like, seriously? That stone obliterated you. We all saw it happen, you were space dust. And now here you are, in the flesh, and getting all grabby with my throat and whatnot and I’m not sure that I like it… At all.” 

Peter was actually surprised when Ronan turned, placing his feet on the floor in front of the cot so he could give Peter a sidelong glance. His expression was stoic, and Peter wasn’t surprised to see some signs of being roughed up- probably Drax, he noted. Ronan regarded Quill for a long moment before finally speaking again.

“I have no reason to speak to you about any of the matters you just laid out in front of me. The fact that you have to ask them at all proves the point that you are as narrow minded as I always assumed you to be, Terran.” 

Peter’s eyebrows knit together, the look of frustration obvious on his face as he threw back, “How exactly does wanting to know make me narrow minded? I’m giving you an opportunity to be treated like something other than the insane warmonger you are by trying to connect with you, and you sit there all high and mighty like you’re better than me for asking a few questions?” 

At this point, Ronan once again turned so his back was resting against the glass and no longer looked at Peter. Which served only to infuriate him more. Instead of yelling like he wanted to, he decided to take an entirely different tactic. It had worked for him earlier when Ronan was squeezing his throat, maybe it would make a difference with him actually being able to sing it this time...

“O-o-oh child, things are gonna get easier…” Peter started singing as he turned up the volume on his Walkman so he could hear the song clearer through the headphones around his neck.

“Terran…” Ronan growled from within the cell, his violet eyes narrowing dangerously as he glanced at Peter over his shoulder.

“O-o-oh child things’ll get brighterrr…” Peter continued, ignoring Ronan’s irritation.

“Terran!” Ronan spoke louder this time, standing from the small cot.

“O-o-oh child, things are gonna get easier… O-o-oh child, things’ll get brighter…”

“Starlord!” Ronan attempted this time, a huff of annoyance leaving the Kree.

A small half-smile quirked Peter’s lips at the moniker being used, but none-the-less chose to continue, “Someday we’ll get it together and we’ll get it undone… Someday when the world is much brighter… Some days we’ll walk in the rays of a beautiful sun… Some day when the world is much…”

“Quill!” Ronan finally spat, effectively causing the Terran man to trail off and ultimately stop his incessant singing.   
In that moment, a thousand questions ran through Peter’s mind. How in the hell did Ronan know his name? He really hadn’t said it out loud to him, did he? One of Ronan’s goonies had called him Starlord at one point but he never really remembered Ronan calling him anything other than Terran, like it was a derogatory term. Had he heard one of the team calling him by his last name? After all, hardly any of them had called him by his first name unless they were feeling particularly endeared toward him (which, honestly was not often.) 

It took him a moment, but he snapped out of his thoughts and looked back to Ronan. This time, blue eyes met violet and he felt his heart stop in his chest. With as much contempt as the Kree man seemed to have for him, he also seemed to be utterly fascinated by him. Although, that could just be wishful thinking on his part…

He felt something akin to naked under Ronan’s gaze as his eyes travelled down to his neck, calmly observing the handprint decorating Peter’s neck. His gaze seemed almost… appreciative. Peter subconsciously brought his own hand up to rub the side of his neck and grimaced as he remembered just how tender the purpled flesh was. 

“I… Think I’m gonna go…” Peter squeaked, turning on his heel and leaving the room quickly, feeling Ronan’s eyes on him the entire time.

…

He wasn’t sure how exactly he’d gotten here, or what started it… But at this point Peter Quill could not find it in himself to care. He’d never really considered himself pale until he compared his own skin to that of the deep blue tone of a Kree. And now, he could say that he had honest ground for comparison. 

Somehow he’d managed to work himself into the Kree’s lap against the wall… Naked. Something about an argument they had, or something in relation to Peter being an insufferable loudmouth had lead to Ronan shutting him up in a very intimate way he had never thought to expect… One thing lead to another and well… Peter couldn’t really find himself complaining.

He felt the gasp leave his throat more than he heard it, his mind was too focused on the feeling of Ronan penetrating him in the most intimate of ways. Peter felt himself clench around the intrusion, his hands grasping at Ronan’s shoulders as he tried to find something… Anything to hold on to.

“Relax…” the Kree cooed into his ear, mouthing at his jaw.

Strangely enough, it helped, and Peter felt his body relax around Ronan, a shutter of a breath leaving his chest. He couldn’t find his voice, and just when he thought he was gathered enough to say something again… Ronan moved. Instead of whatever intellectually snarky thing was about to come out of his mouth, it was replaced with a rather drawn out moan. This seemed to please Ronan, as he took it as invitation to keep going. Peter’s fingers curled into the Kree’s shoulders, his nails biting into his flesh to keep hold… Of his sanity, he presumed, because he had surely lost it willingly allowing the alien warrior who had tried to kill him and his teammates on several different occasions to have the best of him.

But he would be damned if he couldn’t admit that it just felt so good.

Peter felt his head fall back against the wall he was pressed to, the arch of his back helping to aid in a little less head-banging action as Ronan thrust into him.

“Fuu...uck…” Peter managed to grind out as Ronan’s already proven-to-be-talented mouth danced along the bruises he’d left on his neck. The only thing Peter could think of that would have made this moment better for him is if the Kree man would have had hair. He didn’t mind the bald look so much, because the warrior was attractive as hell and there was no getting around that… But he found himself wishing he could pull at his hair in combination of raking his nails down his back.

He found himself incoherent once more as Ronan hit a mark in two places at once; he’d hit that bundle of nerves deep inside him just as he bit down on the already tender flesh of his neck and Peter was done…

Sitting bolt upright in bed, it was all he could do to put his face in his hands and groan.

“Son of a bitch… That did not just happen…” 

Shifting slightly and feeling the wetness between his legs, Peter threw himself back on his bed and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes and let out a rather loud, “FUCK!” before rolling out of bed and immediately walking into the bathroom attached to his room.

Peter turned the shower on and stepped back to strip as the water warmed, kicking his boxers away as if it were their fault he’d just had about the most enticing sex dream about someone who was supposed to be his enemy. Who did that? Honestly. They guy had killed Drax’s wife and daughter, more than that he’d slaughtered hundreds of people without a second thought and used Gamora and her sister Nebula in that plot too… He’d almost killed him, twice…

What the hell was his damage? 

Stepping under the warm spray of the shower, Peter let out a long sigh and ran his hands through his hair. All he could think about is Ronan's hands on his body, his mouth on his neck... he groaned and punched the wall of the shower.

"I am in so much trouble..." he grumbled to himself, shaking his hand out and moving to wash his hair and body before turning the water off and stepping out of the shower. He dried himself off and stepped back into his room, hurriedly getting dressed and heading back out to the rest of the crew. He'd slept enough, had more than enough time alone, he wanted to be around the rest of the crew. 

Peter finally came across Rocket, Groot, and Drax in the sort of 'common area' of the ship, and was greeted by the half-cybernetic raccoon.

"Hey, look who it is. Our fearless leader finally decided to rejoin us."

"You are the ones who grounded me to my bedroom. I mean, beggars can't be choosers." Peter replied with a casual shrug.

"I am Groot." The tree creature agreed, a snort coming from Rocket.

"But we are not grounded, Quill. We are still in space." Drax responded, giving a mild tilt of his head.

"Another idiom, Drax. It's a thing Terran parents do to their kids when they're in trouble. Means they can't go out and do anything and they usually stay confined to their room." Peter explained, receiving a nod of understanding from Drax before continuing, "Where's Gamora?"

Groot decided to chime in again, "I am Groot!"

Peter nodded, "Thanks, buddy." He said before heading to the upper deck where the ship's controls were.

Gamora turned in the captain’s chair as Peter hit the top deck, giving him a nod before turning back to the ship’s controls.

“What’s on your mind, Quill?” she questioned.

Peter gave a small chuckle as he walked over to lean on the control bank, careful not to sit on anything as he asked, “Am I really that readable?”

“Sometimes.” Gamora shrugged, looking back to Peter and continuing, "Right now is one of those moments." 

Peter sighed gently, running a hand through his still damp hair before saying, "I have a problem, Gamora. A really big problem. It's big and blue and has an obnoxious tendency to put me on my ass when I least expect it..." 

Gamora raised an eyebrow at Peter, then promptly let out a laugh. Peter crossed his arms over his chest, sighing. He should have known better. He thought if anyone would have understood and maybe helped guide him through these weird ass emotions, it would have been Gamora… But obviously he’d been wrong. He pushed off the control bank and went to walk out of the top deck before Gamora spoke up again.

“No, Quill… Peter, come back. I’m not laughing at you, I’m laughing at myself.” Gamora spoke once she got herself under control, standing from her seat so Peter could see she was being honest with him, before continuing, “I was so confused as to why you would stop us from just killing Ronan again when he’d grabbed you, when it was clear his intent was to kill you himself. And now I understand. I’m finding humor in the fact that I didn’t see it sooner.”

Peter sighed, giving Gamora an unappreciative glance before walking back to her, sitting in one of the dual chairs behind the helm and saying, “It would have been nice to have that clarification a little sooner… How did you even come to that conclusion to begin with? And why aren’t you angry? I kind of figured out of anyone, you and Drax would want to skin me alive when I admitted to having a thing for the sociopathic murderer who killed his entire family and was an extension of Thanos that used you and your sister…”

Gamora turned back to the controls and hit a few buttons, presumably to set the ship on autopilot, then stepping back to sit in the chair across from Peter and reaching out to touch one of his hands. Oddly motherly from Gamora, he noted. Made him miss his own mom a little bit, his eyes drifting down to look at their hands together. 

Again, there was something about how pale he looked next to these deep-colored skins. Gamora’s vivid green was nothing in comparison to Ronan’s deep blue, but for some reason it made him feel more fragile. Like he would be a lot more easily broken compared to the ‘alien’ species he somehow found himself partnering with… And on some level he knew it was true. Well, if he’d just been purely Terran, that is. He had no idea how to work out his Spartoi side just yet.

Gamora’s voice snapped Peter out of his musings, looking to her as she spoke to him… Her voice kinder than he could remember it ever sounding. 

“Peter. Honestly. You are one of the most painfully selfless creatures I have ever met. Whether you know it or not. You find good in what looks like the worst situations and you're pretty much the reason reason a group of criminals came together to do some good in the galaxy. It does not surprise me that you have managed to find something in him that you are trying to draw out. You're curious, and we all know that. Explore your curiosity, Peter. I'll deal with the others."

Peter smiled, taking Gamora’s hand in his and pressing a kiss to the top of it before saying, "Thank you, Gamora. I really don't know what I would do without you." 

"Die a horrendous painful death for something stupid you've said... or, maybe stew in a ridiculous little crush and and have no one to talk you into doing something about it." She offered with a little chuckle. 

"Probably." Peter shrugged, letting go of her hand and jumping up from his seat adding, "Here goes nothing..!"

"Break a leg, Quill!" Gamora called after him.

Peter didn't respond, ducking down to the middle deck and quickly walking past Rocket, Groot, and Drax. He was pretty sure he heard Rocket say something along the lines of, "What lit the fire under his ass?" And a mumble of response as he slid to a stop in front of the staircase going down to the prisoner hold.

Making his way down the stairs, he was surprised to see Ronan sitting facing the hold door, although his eyes were closed this time. Peter walked up to the front of the cell, crossing his arms and debating turning around and completely ignoring what Gamora had told him... That was until Ronan opened his eyes and raised his head.

"Another visit from the Legendary Starlord so soon?" He questioned, amusement laced in his tone.

"Don't make me regret this, Ronan." Peter grumbled, noting the look of curiosity now playing across Ronan's features. "Answer my questions... and I'll consider letting you out of your cell."

Ronan actually chuckled at this point, leaning forward and crossing his arms to rest on his upper thighs before musing, "All you want is the answers to your little questions and you will willing allow me to meander around your ship with a group that has explicit distaste for my company?"

"They're taken care of. Or, being taken care of as we speak." Peter shrugged, then taking a moment before asking, "How are you alive?"

Ronan sat back again and simply said one word, "Thanos."

Peter's eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression playing across his face as he repeated, "Thanos?"

"You have no real idea the relationship he has with Death, do you?" Ronan questioned, giving giving a tilt of his head. "He had her call me back from the realm of nonexistence so he could torture me. Break my pride and beg for my second death."

"Why?" Peter was surprised at how much Ronan’s words affected him, it felt like a punch to his gut. He'd hoped that it didn't show in his voice.

"I betrayed him. Turned both of his favorite daughters against him, and failed to deliver the Infinity Stone to him like I was tasked to. Thanos doesn't take kindly to failure." 

And there was the sinking feeling. He couldn't, and quite frankly didn't want to, imagine what Thanos did to break Ronan’s pride. Peter felt his shoulders drop as he came to a realization, meeting Ronan's violet gaze before asking, "Is that why you attacked me? Were you hoping to be killed by the rest of the team...? Or did you do it to land here? With us for some sort of protection?"

Ronan hummed and gave a small chuckle before saying, "I haven't given you enough credit, I'm afraid. Desperation does strange things for people, you're aware of that."

"I am..." Peter responded, giving a small nod of his head.

"Death is not an option. Thanos would just drag me back from oblivion and force me right back into corporeal form and continue his reign of torture upon my soul. What wouldn't be more intelligent than to make an attempt at aligning myself with a crew that despises Thanos just as much as I?" Ronan explained, standing from the cot and taking a few strides toward the door of the cell.

"Fair enough, I guess. I mean... it is probably the best course of action. With my apparent bleeding heart and the ability to convince the team not to kill you... again... Alright then." Peter mused out loud, stepping forward himself and typing the code into the prison cell door... After all, he had made a promise.

Once the cell door slid open, Ronan took a step toward Peter and causing him to take a step back. He swallowed hard as Ronan raised his hand and placed it on Peter's jaw, tilting his head to better see his neck, to better see the bruises he'd left. 

The honest sympathy he'd held for Ronan moments ago found itself slowly melting away as he shrunk under the Kree’s gaze. 

"Ronan...?" Peter questioned quietly.

"I perhaps did not mean to squeeze so tight. For that, I apologize." Ronan remarked, letting go of Peter's jaw and giving a half smirk before adding, "Though I must admit you wear the bruises well."

Peter felt his heart leap into his throat, gawking for a moment as Ronan's words sank in. Was he really flirting with him? Maybe that dream really was telling him something...

Again he found himself thinking, ah... What the hell?

Peter grabbed onto the hooded scarf Ronan was wearing and pulled him down to his level, pressing their mouths together in a desperation he had no idea that he possessed. Lucky for Peter, Ronan seemed to respond positively as he returned the fervor, stepping forward and forcing Peter to step back until his back connected with the wall. 

"Oh, god..." Peter groaned into the kiss, having flashbacks to the dream he'd had only this morning.

"Hm?" Ronan hummed questioningly, pulling back from Peter's lips to give him a curious glance.

"I... Well... Ah..." Peter stuttered, another thought coming to his mind as he let his hands trace along Ronan's shoulders, then quietly asking, "How long has it been...? Since you've... Had someone that was willing to stick around afterwards?"

Ronan paused, seemingly caught off guard by the question before simply stating, "I've lost track." And moved to capture Peter's mouth with his again.

Peter let this go on for a few minutes more, reveling in how absolutely ravished he felt with just Ronan's mouth on his... the little nips they played with back and forth until the point Peter had the Kree’s tongue sliding into his own mouth and and he thought he could just die happily right then and there. It was when he felt Ronan's hand go to slide under his shirt that Peter stopped him, placing a hand on his wrist and pulling away.

It took Peter a moment to catch his breath, looking up at the rather confused Ronan with a little hint of a smile on his kiss-bitten lips.

"Not here. We're not going to do this here..." he stated, making his tone as adamant as possible. Because in all honesty if Ronan wanted he could probably completely obliterate the plan he had in mind, he was already having problems thinking after all... but he was hoping he would listen.

"Oh?" Came the questioning response.

Peter leaned forward and stole a small kiss from the corner of Ronan's mouth before responding, "We're gonna go up one floor and down the hall to my room... I'm gonna take care of you."

Ronan let out a huff that sounded vaguely amused as he in return replied, "I don't need to be taken care of, Quill." And moved to steal another kiss from him, only to be met by Peter's hands over his lips.

"That's too bad, because I'm not really negotiating." Peter responded, moving his hand to give Ronan another brief kiss to keep his interest, then moving the hand under his shirt, edging along the wall to his freedom and pulling Ronan along with him.

The only thing Peter hated at this moment was the fact that the stairwell for the prisoner hold came right up on the common area of the ship, and he could just imagine what Rocket was bound to say as he passed through with Ronan. Lucky for him, it seemed Gamora had kept her end of the deal and was sitting among the group as he and Ronan passed through, giving Peter a little nod and a smile.

Peter shot her a small smile of his own back as he lead Ronan into his room, hearing Rocket say something to the effect of, "Yep. Quill's lost his krutacking mind." And the sound of him being smacked upside the head.

Peter might have laughed if it wasn't for the distraction of Ronan pulling him against his chest, tracing his lips against the shell of his ear and whispering, “What was that about you taking care of me, now?” He questioned, pressing a kiss to the side of Peter's neck.

Peter hummed softly, resting his hands over Ronan's before saying, "Don't worry, I'm not going to let you down, Ronan.”

Peter took his hands and Ronan’s, twisting himself out of the Kree’s surprisingly lax grasp. The only thing he could assume was that Ronan was honestly curious to what was in his head, what he had planned for the two of them. Which, was more like 12% of a plan, but hey… Who said he wasn’t great at thinking on his feet?

Peter tugged Ronan over to his bed and stood him in front of it before saying a surprisingly demanding, "Sit."

To which Ronan seemed a little surprised, but followed the direction none-the-less. Now that Ronan was a little more eye-level, Peter found it surprisingly easier to think. He reached forward to finally pull that godforsaken hooded scarf from around Ronan's head and shoulders, ever so gently tracing his fingers along his scalp and along his cheekbones with a certain level of awe. There were scars along the deep blue skin where the black tar-like substance used to decorate his face to play his role as the Accuser. He hadn't realized Ronan had closed his eyes until he went to say something, choosing instead to lean forward and press a gentle kiss to each of the lines under Ronan's them. 

Peter felt Ronan's hands come to rest on his hips, pulling him forward until he was kneeling on the bed, straddling his hips. When their mouths met this time, it wasn't frenzied like it had been earlier. It was almost... tender. Peter found himself thinking back to what Gamora said earlier, something about finding good in the worst situations... and kind of alluded to finding it in people too. This was definitely a good side of Ronan.

This time when Ronan's hand slid under his shirt, Peter didn't stop him. A small hum escaped his chest as hands trailed up along his spine, mourning the loss of Ronan's mouth on his for the moment it took to remove his shirt.

He might have mourned it a little longer if it wasn’t for the fact that Ronan had decided to take the lead once more- Peter was beginning to suspect that Ronan never was that great of a follower- and attached that mouth of his to his neck. A few kisses and a drag of teeth had Peter shivering, clutching at Ronan’s shoulders. He felt his eyes close, his breath shuttering as it left his lips. 

“You still in one piece, Quill? You’ve gotten awfully quiet…” Ronan remarked.

Peter opened his mouth to say something, but the commentary was broken off by a moan as Ronan bit into one of the bruises already decorating his neck. 

“Fuck!” Peter groaned, feeling one of his hands shaking as he held onto Ronan’s shoulder, trying to compose himself.

Ronan chuckled softly, brushing his lips against the spot he’d just bit as he teased, “I like you so much more when you’re vocal.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind…” Peter responded, moving to catch Ronan’s mouth with his own again, sliding his hands down his chest to catch the bottom of the shirt he still wore, tugging it up and pulling slightly away in order to remove it and toss it to the floor. 

Peter took the same moment he did in his dream to admire the difference of their skin tones, placing his hand gently on Ronan’s chest. Ronan gave a curious glance at the gesture, letting one of his hands rest at the small of Peter’s back as the other fell over the one on his chest and taking it in his own. 

“You seem fascinated. I’d almost think you’d never slept with a species you Terran consider to be alien.” Ronan commented, arching an eyebrow.

“Hey, we are not talking about my former partners here.” Peter replied, giving Ronan an unamused look before continuing, “I may have slept with other… alien species before… However, I have never been with anyone with skin as vibrant as yours. It’s… Beautiful.” 

Ronan paused, an unreadable expression on his face. He toyed with Peter’s hand for a moment, making Peter wonder… Had anyone ever said anything like that to him before? That was something that he’d honestly always enjoyed about being in space since Yondu had… Unceremoniously adopted him. Something about the pigment in the ‘alien’ species skins was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen back home on Terra. Of course there had always been those alien movies that’d started coming out when he was younger but… These people were so special. So vibrant… And so far he would have to admit the shade of this particular Kree was probably the most stunning he’d seen thus far.

Peter took the momentary lapse of speech to bring his other hand up to press against Ronan’s chest and gently pushing him back to lay on the bed, leaning over Ronan to press a kiss to his lips, gently whispering,

“That’s right, I think you’re absolutely stunning. And well, I may have had a weird moment when you were trying to kill us years ago.”

Ronan hummed, bringing a hand up to rest on the back of Peter’s neck as he says, “And that is the only reason I fell to you.”

Peter would later admit that the simple statement shocked the hell out of him. He never in a million years would have thought someone like Ronan the Accuser would ever find him more attractive than say… A speck of dirt. Let alone being distracting enough to cause his downfall.

Some things were not meant to be deeply thought of in those moments that followed. The only thing on Peter Quill’s mind was the very spectacular anatomy of a specific Kree warrior who continuously proved to be even better than in his dreams. 

The rest of their clothes were shed quickly, Peter finding his home still straddling Ronan’s hips. He’d meant what he’d said earlier, that he wanted to take care of Ronan, whether he liked it or not. Pausing only for a moment to dig through a drawer to grab a bottle of lube keep things smooth. 

No further words had to be exchanged between the two, just small noises of encouragement on Peter’s part when he realized Ronan may actually be genuinely concerned about harming him. Some part of him felt like he probably could have gotten off just on Ronan’s fingers alone as he was prepping him, feeling his eyes roll back into his head in sheer pleasure as those delightfully long fingers of his brushed past his prostate.

In the end, they rather ironically ended up rather similarly to how they had in his dream. Ronan had sat upright with his hands on Peter’s hips, burying himself deep into Peter with every thrust. Peter wrapped his arms around Ronan’s shoulders to keep himself balanced, his blunt nails digging into the flesh as Ronan focused his attentions on Peter’s neck, adding a few more bruises to the already impressive collection he already wore… Not that Peter was exactly in the business of complaining. 

In the end, the friction caused by his cock being trapped between their bodies, Ronan hitting that very sweet spot inside him, and a bite to his neck was Peter’s undoing. He vaguely remembers coming up to that point whispering Ronan’s name like a prayer and suddenly the world went white, and he was riding through the most powerful orgasm of his life so far…

Somewhere in the back of his mind he could vaguely recall hearing his name, Peter, leaving Ronan’s lips as he too came to his climax. If he were more positive of the fact, he might rib him a little bit about it. At this point, though, he was perfectly happy to follow the passage of Ronan’s body and lie on top of him for a moment as the Kree’s back hit the mattress. 

He gave it a moment before carefully shifting to allow Ronan to slip out of him, the sensation causing a small shutter to escape through his body. Stretching out beside him, Peter rested his head on Ronan’s chest.

“I don’t… Cuddle, Quill.” Ronan said simply, earning a disgruntled little huff from Peter.

“I held up my end of the deal in taking care of you, didn’t I?” he responded, shifting his head so blue eyes met violet.

“You did, but…” Ronan began.

“Just shut up and let me cuddle.” Peter cut him off, pressing a kiss to his lips and settling in beside him again.

He heard a small chuckle come from deep inside Ronan’s chest, a satisfied little smile appearing on his lips as he felt the blanket they’d somehow managed to shove to the side drape over him… And even more so when he felt a familiar arm fall around his waist. 

Maybe Ronan wasn’t always as evil as he seemed, Peter mused. He’d still done a lot of really fucked up things, but maybe he could turn things around now and help them fight Thanos.

It was all something he’d eventually get around to talking to him about… After a well-deserved nap. After all, what sense did it make to fight it off when he was so comfortable… and warm… Thinking could definitely wait for now.


End file.
